Burnt away
by dipothebookworm
Summary: The Phantomhive manor is burnt away, and three lives are changed. For better or for worse? Three perspectives, Madam Red, Lizzy, and Ciel. Threeshot. First chapter has been completely rewritten, to those who read before. check it out.
1. Madam Red

(A/N: Yadda yadda yadda I don't own Kuroshitsuji, Yana Toboso does, yadda yadda yadda. Anyway, this is a threeshot, from three perspectives, Lizzy, Madam Red and Ciel when the Manor burned down. Starting with the little-mentioned Madam Red today, kiddies!)

**(A/N: Who loves rewrites? WE ALL DO! Joking. But this chapter was pretty crap, so it needed some extensive rewrites. Have fun reading, AGAIN. I think that I basically wrote a new story, because it is now very different.)**

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Red has always been a color to be reckoned with. Few admired it, calling it passionate, and romantic. Not exactly things that were cherished in the chaste Victorian Era.

It was once said that those with red hair were jinxed. Red had rarely been a color with which good things were associated. Spilt blood, strained eyes, and blazing rage. Even as a child, I knew this. Whispers around the hall spoke of a sad little girl with bright, crimson locks and a musing disposition. If any ventured upon a compliment, it would be 'sweet'. Never lovely, beautiful, or even pretty.

Until the day 'that man' called my hair beautiful. Those few words, that I'm sure even he had forgotten after they escaped his lips, suddenly made red a happy color. For a while, even I was happy. I changed, and became cheery. I powdered my nose, wore bright dresses, and worried about love. My parents were shocked yet euphoric. Until it happened again, as always. My curse.

Red had stained every happy memory I'd had.

When I fell in love with 'that man', after he compared my hair to bright, lovely flowers.

Red. Like the dress I wore on the damned day he married my _beloved_ older sister.

The birth of their child.

Red. Like Rachel's blood that he was dyed with moments after his first breath.

My own happy -albeit short- marriage to a man who loved and cared for me unconditionally.

Red. Like the blood splattered in the carriage that sealed the fates of him, my unborn child, and any chance of having the thing that I wanted most.

Red was always with me. Whether I loved or hated it, embraced it to my chest with both arms or shoved it away with all of my being, it was unavoidable. Inevitable, waiting to scoop me up, enveloping anything I had. What did I do to deserve this? Tell me, how have I wronged the heavens to deserve such a cruel fate?

Vivid red. It painted the manor of the home in which my dear sister, 'that man', and my little Ciel lived. And died in.

Flames burst out of the manse, engulfing everything that they could touch, fire consuming all of my vision. It was horrible and beautiful. Red, red, red. The color that I was born with, was filled with, was meant to be. Red consumed all, every part of me. Something broke inside myself that day, staring at the once beautiful manor being demolished. My weak body was wrapped in the rich heat. It was like a mother's arms, clutching my to her chest with its safety and warmth. It was so hauntingly, exquisitely bewitching. After watching rapturously, I began to laugh. Nothing mattered anymore. Everything that I loved was taken, by that color. Years and years of pure, unseated madness bubbled out of me. The laughter was uncontrollable. Tears of joy and sadness ran down my pallid cheeks in equal measure, until they glowed heartily from the sheer exertion.

And soon enough there was no Angelina Dalles left.

Only Madam Red.

* * *

Going back to work was helpful, a bit. It distracted me from the hellish reality that was the twisted shambles of my former life, the one I had burnt away. But those _women._ Those selfish _sluts_. They had everything that I ever could have wanted, and tossed it like it was trash into a bin. Listening to them, made my blood boil. Performing surgery on them made me want to scream. What little part of myself that had healed was consumed by the red fury boiling inside of my soul. The red rage roiled for so long, that yet another me was born, like a phoenix through fire.

Jack the Ripper. That was damned right. I made sure that each of my patients were ripped open completely. When I first heard it used in society, I feigned shock, just as the other noble ladies. But hid my face behind a scarlet fan and smiled madly.

"What a tragedy, those poor, lost souls…"

Filthy liars, the lot of them. As the cases piled up, their concern became lackluster. They knew who the Ripper was targeting. And it sure as hell wasn't them.

The name that they gave my murderous alter ego seemed unimaginative. Like a an organ monkey scrounging for change in the filthy slums. Well, I was looking for something there, but it was certainly not paltry pennies. Rather, it was the lives of the ungrateful wenches who dared to throw away the most precious thing; A child's life. I decided, if they didn't want their wombs, they didn't need them. Or their lives, the filthy whores. Fair was fair.

It was during one particularly gruesome episode that I met my dazzling red reaper. He… sympathized with my childlessness, and decided to help me. He always thought that I was at my most irresistible. The crimson red mistress and the vivid red reaper.

Several months after that, my little Ciel came back with a butler. All clad in black, like the darkest ash from a great fire. He gave off an aura of entrapment, like a lion toying with a deer before devouring it whole. It unsettled me, seeing him behind Ciel. It may have been a butler's duty, but he looked, possessive. He called himself Sebastian, after that great black dog that had also been consumed by the flame. I didn't trust him. But at least one precious thing was back. My nephew, who cried so weakly in my arms when he was born. Just looking at my Ciel reminded me of that ill-made day. When the 'that man', whom I loved so much was taken, and my dear sister as well.

The fire, when the last of my life had been snatched from me. By that color, my pride and my curse.

Vivid red.

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(A/N: So, whatcha think? Reviews are appreciated, thanks. And with the whole rewrite thing, how was that?)


	2. Lizzy

(A/N: Toboso Yana-sensei owns Black butler. Anywho, this is Lizzy's chapter. If you hadn't noticed, I love Lizzy's character, and will always.)

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Being a lady wasn't easy. Well, naturally, I had pretty dresses, maids to do all the work and lovely food, so I suppose that I wasn't suffering.

I had anything that a girl would have wished for. Money, a name full of status and power, an adoring family (but a strict mother), caring staff and a pretty face. Not to mention an ADORABLE fiance with the cutest blue eyes in Victoria's England.

I had anything a girl could have wished for. For a while, I was happy. I would take my fencing lessons, play with Ciel, go shopping, have tea parties and all of the ladylike things that I was expected to do.

I was comfortable, but more importantly, truly happy. THe worst thing that had really happened to me was the time that Ciel had said that he wanted to have a cute, non-threatening and 'nice' wife. One not 'scary' like my mother. A nice, sweet, cute nonthreatening girl that didn't fence, handle swords, or do anything physical. A doll, delicate and cared for. Just what my Aunt Angelina had always told me.

That day had sort of-switched a part of me off. And switched on a newer part of me. One who was meant to deceive, and make sure that Ciel would be safe and unknowing of my true self. One hand held a sword, sharp, deadly and ready to defend him, and the other, a flower, a doll, a lacy parasol, anything. Anything that was 'ladylike', and acceptable.

Life went on, with myself training with the masters, becoming an expert sword-fighter on some days. On other days, I would gossip with insipid little girls over tea and elevenses. Until IT happened.

That day, I was cheerfully embroidering. A handkerchief for my cute fiance, Ciel. I had worked on it for days, devotedly, until I was sure that it was perfectly cute. It was a gift for his birthday.

He never got it.

That day, Paula had burst into my room, breathless with horror. And when I heard the news I was unable to breathe. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Killed. Murdered. Fire.

Those words rang in my ears, uncomprehendingly. I couldn't really understand what Paula was saying. Or at least my mind told itself that. No. No. No. My brain rejected it with all it could. This concept was foreign, strange, alien to my ears.

I cried at his grave, I could overhear the other noble ladies, chatting. Chatting. About the fire, about the Phantomhives being murdered, about some wretched lady being remarried-

Those women didn't care. Why should they? It wasn't their family. It wasn't their husband, their child, their love. Why should they care? They had already done their duty. They sat in the chapel at the funeral, making sure to look pious and repentant.

"Oh, what a shame, for such a happy family to be killed like this!"

"They will be terribly missed!"

Not by them, of course. After the funeral, they would go back to their pampered lives of excess, and I would go back to my life, a void.

* * *

This wasn't supposed to happen. Wasn't I a proper young lady? Didn't I do as I was told? I fenced, I kept it a secret. I was a proper young lady. I was supposed to be married in a romantic ceremony. I was supposed to have my first kiss. I was supposed to be a Phantomhive. All my life, training and training and training, and for what? Fighting with mother to be cute, and for what? Black dresses, a black mood, and a black heart. A small headstone for the body of my fiance, never found. All of it was so wrong. I was wrong. Surely this was my fault. What was it? I wore too much pink? No, my training. I didn't train enough.

That month, the darkest of my life, I threw myself into training like never before. My fury was like a tiger's, slashing through my opponents with no mercy. My mother was parts impressed with my progress and disheartened for the reason behind my strength. The Phantomhives were gone, but… I wasn't quite sure. I needed to continue. I didn't know why. I had a feeling that I would need to become stronger, better, I would need to protect something (or one?) highly important to me.

* * *

And one day, for no particular reason, Ciel was back. No explanation, no excuse, he simply WAS. Along with a butler clad in black. I didn't trust him.

I still don't. On the outside, he was gorgeous (well, a fourteen-year-old girl was allowed to have her little crushes) and a damn good butler. But something was always… off. I never could really pinpoint it, and to say anything to Ciel would waste my words. Ladies were to be cute, unknowing angels, just as Aunty An said.

It didn't matter. My fiance was back. The family was happy. Everything was great!

On the outside. Internally, I knew that this short, skinny little Earl was not the Ciel Phantomhive I had once loved. He was not **my** Ciel. That month, something had happened to him, something that brought out the darkness in his heart, the part of him he never let me see again.

That cute little boy had burned up in the flame that had consumed his parents, and was not to be seen. But no matter what, I will protect him. No matter if I am tall and unladylike, I will stand silently beside him. I will search for my Ciel, hidden under the icy gaze of this boy beside me.

I had thought that I would die when Ciel did. I realize that I was wrong now. I am Elizabeth Midford, daughter of Alexis Midford, Head Knight of England. I will stand tall and proud, with a blade by my side, ready to fight to protect him, whether he wishes it **or not**.

And one day, I will rescue my Ciel from the flames.

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(A/N: Review, peeps!)


	3. Ciel

(Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji does not belong to me, sadly. Yana Toboso owns it. *sobs*. Anyway, this is the final part to my threeshot series. This chapter gets pretty heavy, even for me, be warned. Please enjoy, and don't forget to review! Thanks! Love ooo)

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_London Bridge is falling down,_

_Falling down,_

_Falling down._

_London Bridge is falling down,_

_My fair lady._

As a child, I remember playing this game. Lizzy and I would run under the arms of my mother and Aunt Angelina, and they would sing. It was fun, a light childish amusement. Nowadays, it reminds me of darker times.

It wasn't London Bridge falling down, it was the rafters of my home cascading, wrapping the corpses of my parents on flame and the charred pieces of the mansion falling to the cold ground.

If you really thought about it, or did a bit of research, you would find a rather dark meaning to the song. That it was about child sacrifice.

Right, now here's the story. There was a legend that if there was no human sacrifice in the bridges foundation, then it would collapse. And that the spirit of the sacrifice was usually a child, whose spirit would be the 'watchman' of the bridge.

Funny, I never recalled my mother telling me that bedtime story.

* * *

I was never afraid of fire as a child. Even after that time…

_The Phantomhive Manor, 4 years prior._

"_Mummy, let me help you."_

_Rachel smiled._

"_Ciel, don't worry. How about you just lick the spoon, here."_

"_No, mummy, I want to help you. Can I put the cookies in to bake?"_

"_All right, dear. But remember, it's a fire so try not to touch the red part."_

"_Pretty… AUGH!"_

_Ciel had been mesmerized by the flickering, malignant flame in the oven, reaching out to touch it. With his mother cooing over him, and his hand stinging, little Ciel learned a lesson. The lesson learned was that fire is damned hot. And if played with, can have some major consequences. Naturally, after some time, his hand stopped hurting, there were cookies, and he continued to help his mother in the kitchen, but being more careful. He didn't really realize exactly how destructive fire could be._

_Until later. Much later._

* * *

Flame. Combustion. Fire. Blaze. Conflagration. Inferno.

Different words for the same thing.

Fire.

_Combustion or burning, in which substances combine chemically with oxygen from the air and typically gives out bright light, heat and smoke._

That was the technical definition. I had remembered from the occasion when Sebastian had given me a lesson on chemistry. I decided to look up the word 'fire' in a dictionary. Why not? As with most academic things, the definition was cold, clinical, impersonal. An odd way to describe something so ravenous. I had ordered Sebastian to burn the page immediately. Watching that cold description burn in its own true self was oddly satisfying.

* * *

_December 14th, 1885_

"_Mother? Father?"_

_Ciel ran through the mansion, looking for his parents. It was warm. Very warm._

"_Where are you?"_

_He had had an odd nightmare. Lots of dark figures had swirled and lunged for him, with each one getting closer and closer and closer until it snatched him up and-_

_Ciel had woken up, with beads of sweat forming on his brow. After that, he had decided to get up and go to his parents room, to cuddle with them. It was his birthday, and he was sure that they wouldn't mind, right?_

_Of course they didn't. They never minded before, did they? And they didn't mind tonight either, as they were dead._

_Wait, what?_

_Ciel walked cautiously into the living room._

"_Mother…? Father?"_

_A heart beat. Ba dump. Ba dump. _

_He saw the room engulfed in flames, which was the source of the oppressive heat. His mother and father…_

_Were dead. They sat on the loveseat together, as poised and proper as ever. But their eyes were blank and lifeless, with their skin being roasted as he stood there. A smell of burning flesh invaded his nose, and he fought the urge to vomit._

_Instead, he cried. He sobbed in shock for a minute, before the sound of labored breathing registered in his ears. It was Tanaka. He wheezed as he spoke his warning:_

"_Ciel! Quickly, you must escape! Please young master, get away from-"_

_Clunk. A blunt object hit the old man mid-speech, and he went down, unconscious. There was a shadow of a man behind him, and Ciel was frightened out of his wits. Then, before he could scream, the shadow's arm lunged for him, and captured him. He felt an odd pinch, and the horror and blood of the night washed away on a hazy shore._

* * *

_?_

_When little Ciel awoke, his body was sore, and cold. Struggling to his feet, he looked about, and the world was alien to him. There were tall figures leading ominous chants over… devilish looking figures. There were also other little boys huddled in a group around a cage. Wait. He was in one was well. Ciel rushed to the wall of the cramped cell, and shook the bars, desperately. One of the hooded figure turned to him with a hideous grin, and walked towards his miniature prison. Ciel cried out in desperation._

"_HELP! Somebody! Help me!"_

_No one came to help._

_How long had it been? A fortnight? A week? A year?_

_Who cared?_

_The torture would just drag on and on and on…_

_Where was he? WHO was he? Everything was murky now._

_Ciel tried in vain to move, but pure agony swelled in his spine, searing his minute form with desolation. The brand. They had branded him some time ago (a day? an hour? when was it?) and it still hurt. The fire and scent of sizzling, burning flesh (his own) when they pressed the scalding metal on him reminded him of 'that day'. The pain was too much. He passed out, and fell into a dreamless reverie._

_He was jolted awake by the sensation of his lithe arm being yanked out of the cage. Was it over? Did he serve his punishment? _

_He was slammed upon a cold, gritty slab of stone. His head caught on a jagged piece and tore, then bled. It was no matter. The old blood mixed with the new, creating a warm, sticky feeling. Two heavy-set men held his limp arms to the side of the stone, to prevent him from moving. By this point, he was so weak, it was unnecessary._

_There were groups of the hooded figures around him. They were men and women, wearing masks, and were in a jovial mood, smiling. Next, a chubby man waddled forward with an ornate, gleaming knife, and they hushed. _

"_Now," he intoned, "The sacrifice! We will summon - a demon of the Pit!"_

_Wild cheering abounded from the cultists. They began to hiss out their requests._

"_Make me beautiful!" one female screeched._

"_I want to live forever!" a man yelled._

_The ranting of the frenzied people grew to a fervour surpassing their previous noise. Ciel's unease and fear grew swifter every moment. The 'leader' raised the knife menacingly over Ciel, and the chanting grew heavier than ever. Ciel screamed as the knife went down, a long, long scream. _

"_-! Accept our sacrifice! Take this child's soul! WE summon you!"_

_He couldn't stop screaming. This pain was the most unbearable thing that he had experienced. Pain, pain, pain. He wanted to die. There was nothing left for him. But._

_Revenge. Anger. Fury. How DARE this happen to him. A murderous rage overtook the pain and swelled in Ciel. That was when he saw it._

_It was shocking. Black feathers everywhere, a swirling aura of… ? It felt horrible, watching it. All he could recognize was the black, shining boots that it wore, and the sick, almost feline grin on its face. _

"_You called?"_

* * *

That was when I had first met Sebastian. Or, whatever his name was then. I was ready to die, I had nothing to lose. All those filthy… they had tried to get him to give them favors, but he was only interested in me. He offered me a deal. You know all the terms, I won't bore you with that.

The moment was so surreal. Time had stopped (or it seemed so) and it was so odd. I took his hand and sealed the contract. His first order was simple: Destroy them all.

As with all of the orders I give him, he gave that (highly irritating) smirk of his, and said those words for the first time:

"Yes, my lord."

* * *

_After Sebastian rescues Ciel from the sacrificial altar, they head to the Royal London Hospital. Carrying Ciel inside, Sebastian looks around the hospital dismissively._

"_This is the place you spoke of?"_

"_Yes", Ciel replied, "My Aunt Anne works somewhere here."_

_Angelina walked by them slowly, lost in thought. She sharply turned her head suddenly, doing an incredulous double take._

"_Could this be… CIEL!"_

_She looks at Ciel, and cries. Her previous thoughts forgotten, she drops her papers and snatches Ciel from Sebastian's arms, sobbing incoherently. Ciel scowls slightly, unused to her warmth (obviously)._

"_How are you? what happened? Oh, my dear!", she snuffled, firing questions at him so quickly he could barely register them._

"_Yes, yes, Aunty, I'm alright."_

* * *

I lied to her. There was no way that I was 'alright'. If by alright she meant alive, then yes, surely. But I was never again that sniveling, pathetic little child. I am an adult. I have seen pain,and lived through it. I was reborn through death. I will have revenge, and frankly, I don't give a damn how I get it. Even if it means losing my soul.

That's sort of a redundant statement, really. My soul is already lost. My 'life' is over. I will never be married, or have a family. The Phantomhive name will die with me. I can accept that, but only if my name is not disgraced.

Sometimes, I have nightmares. I think of 'that day', and the fire and death of my parents, and wake up screaming. And Sebastian is ever there. Till the bitter end.

THE END

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(A/N: Aight! This threeshot is finito, kaput, done, whatever! Kindly review, and continue to read my stories. Honestly, I wasn't sure how to end this series. Should I put in an epilogue to round it up properly? Please leave your thoughts about that in the comments. Sayonara! I have been watching too much Hetalia. Oh Spain… Is anyone actually reading this? If so, hiiii. Review. Favorite. I dunno. Review.)


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